


A Stroke of Genius

by BeyondTheHorizonIsHope



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Feels, Multiverse, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Strangers to Lovers, Time Travel, all the family feels, gut punches for everyone, ha cause stephen strange, wizards and stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondTheHorizonIsHope/pseuds/BeyondTheHorizonIsHope
Summary: Morgan had always heard about what the universe was like before The Snap. Her mother and father told her about wonderful people who disappeared without a chance, gone forever because of a mad Titan. She remembered her father’s obsession over trying to fix it, and how it had nearly cost him everything.Years after his death, Morgan discovers a way to go back, to change the outcome of the war and bring to an end the world that should have never existed, even if it is at the cost of her own life.But the fabric of time is a fragile thing. One small move can send the largest ripples echoing across the ages, which may be why one Master of the Mystic Arts is bound and determined to keep her from changing anything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post Snap AU story. There will be no elements from Avengers: Endgame within. 
> 
> For the purposes of this story, Pepper Potts and Nathaniel Barton have survived the Decimation, regardless of their state in the MCU. Other confirmed dead/questionable characters may make an appearance.

* * *

 

_Across the ages_  
_Every living soul comes to know the same truths:_  
_Pain is inescapable_  
_Loss is inevitable  
_ _But love makes all things bearable_

* * *

 

**Prologue**

_Avengers Tower  
_ _Eight years after the Decimation_

“Dad, why is the sky blue?”

“Because molecules in the air scatter blue light waves from the sun.”

“But the sun isn’t blue.”

“And you should be grateful for that, because if it was, we’d all be burnt to a crisp. Actually, we wouldn’t exist at all. The conditions to form the Earth wouldn’t have been up to snuff, and even if it somehow happened, the atmosphere would have practically evaporated, exposing us to dangerous amounts of radiation and-”

Tony turned around to a tiny form seated on a stool. Red hair in pigtails, shoes half tied, and bandages on her knees, Morgan was the perfect picture of a typical young and boisterous child. She even swung her legs in the air like she was glued to the seat and needed the momentum to achieve freedom. Her blue eyes had taken to roaming the workshop, interest in his rambling long gone.

“You know what, ask your mother.”

Morgan’s gaze found its way back to him. “Mom says that can’t be your answer to everything.”

Tony turned back to his work. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t like my other answers either.”

With a wave of his hand, the various equations and charts that were projected disappeared, revealing a new set that, to the untrained eye, looked like a continuation of the technobabble he’d just had up. But this was a completely unrelated segment.

What was it Clint had said? He stopped paying attention once they added letters?

Snorting, Tony proceeded to expand a certain segment of the equation. It was supposed to measure the speed of time in relation to an external point. If he could physically step out of time at that very moment and look at the time line as an actual object versus an abstract theory, how fast would it be moving? Would he perceive each moment as he did now, or would it be faster? Slower? Would he have to throw himself back in and hope for the best or could he possess the ability to manipulate the temporal construct?

This was getting ridiculous, but every path he took led to the same thing: theories so impossibly obscure that it was pure science fiction. Worse, science fantasy. Star Wars, not Star Trek. He’d be better off discovering the Force than an actual, stable scientific method to go back and fix everything.

But he had to go back. They had no choice. None of this was supposed to happen.  
  
_There was no other way._

Why would Stephen Strange save him if not for this?

“If the sun was blue, would the sky be yellow?”

He minimized the projection. “What?”

“Well, the sky is blue now, and the sun is yellow, so if the sun was blue, wouldn’t they switch?”

“No, that…no, that’s not how it works,” Tony replied, opening another screen. Images of a machine appeared, simple in nature, a half-formed idea really. The lines had been scrapped and redrawn multiple times, and even now there were more than a few question marks surrounding the design details. This was nowhere near the final product, or even a prototype.

“Why not?”

“Because a blue sun is too hot,” he continued, writing notes about a stress test needed for the materials he’d gathered. The kind of heat this thing was going to put out would have made NASA nervous, had they still existed.

“It would evaporate the atmosphere,” he said, waving his arm behind him in what he thought was her general direction. “There wouldn’t be any sky. Just the ground and space.”

“But that doesn’t make sense.”

“Not everything has to make sense, sweetheart.”

Like how his daughter even got into the lab. She should have been in school by now. Wasn’t like she had to go far. They had a private facility near the ground floor of the tower.

Being a self-powered structure, it had been one of the few places unaffected by the grid failures. People had flocked over, and Pepper had let them all in. Some stayed. Most of the businesses inside no longer existed, so they turned into homes, and suddenly Avengers Tower had its own little community.

He couldn’t name a single resident, but that was what FRIDAY was for.

Friday. Yesterday was Friday.

So today was Saturday.

No school Saturdays. Some things were still the same.

“That’s what people say when they don’t want to tell you,” Morgan argued.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.”

He waited, bracing for another round of questions.

Silence. Good. Just what he needed. Now he could work on that differential equa-

“Is the ocean blue because of the sky or the sun?”

Tony whirled around, locking eyes with his daughter. “Do all kids come preloaded with annoying questions, or is it just you?”

_Shit_.

Morgan jumped, as if physically smacked by the words, and her eyes opened wide. He would have ventured to say comically so if it weren’t for the sadness that immediately followed. Her blue eyes darkened as her lip began to tremble.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

“Morgan, honey, I didn’t-”

But the damage was done.

His daughter leapt off the stool and bolted across the lab, making a beeline for the elevators. She moved faster than he thought she could have, barely giving him time to react, and definitely not enough time to catch her as the doors to the lift opened wide.

“FRIDAY, stop the elevator!” Tony shouted as he jogged across the room. He just caught the sound of her sniffing as the doors closed shut. He slammed against them, pounding the metal and pushing on the control panel like it would change anything. “FRIDAY, stop the elevator. Bring it back. Bring it back!”

He punched the door one last time as he heard the sounds of the elevator car grow distant. Morgan was heading up, to their home, to her mother.

“I’m sorry, boss,” FRIDAY’s voice chimed from overhead, programming almost making her sound sympathetic. “But I don’t believe Miss Morgan would like that.”

Tony leaned against the wall beside the elevator, running his hands over his face.

“Since when do you take her side over mine?” he asked, voice calming but still very much on edge.

“Since Miss Potts told me to.”

* * *

Tony gave himself a few minutes to cool down before he wandered upstairs in search of his wayward daughter.

The elevator brought him to the main Avengers floor. It had been destroyed several times in the past, so the build had begun to look different year after year, and after half the world disappeared, every inch of the place had been covered in people, talking, crying, covered in blankets he didn’t know they had kind of people. He hadn’t recognized the space for months, but the layout had slowly come back to him. There was the entertainment section with the bar, while further down the hallway were more homey rooms, like bathrooms and the kitchen.

Clint was currently occupying the latter. Sitting on the island, he had an orange clutched between his hands and a look on his face that said Tony should have been grateful that he wasn’t currently armed.

“From the glare I’m currently receiving, I take it my daughter has been through here,” Tony said, sounding as casual as he could given the situation.

The archer nodded once. “You screwed up.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you?” Clint asked, jumping down. He didn’t move as well as he used to, even had a limp, but Tony knew he could still have his ass on the ground in seconds. “Or is this one of those temporary apologies you’re so well known for? Cause I tell you what, Tony, I don’t wanna see that girl of yours crying again because her father can’t get his shit together.”

Tony opened his mouth, one of his trademark comebacks right there on this tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself. Clint was right – he usually was, but he wasn’t about to admit that – and if he said anything to the contrary, not only was he actually going to get his ass kicked, he was going to deserve it.

So, he walked away.

There were stairs in the back that led to upstairs bedrooms. It was where the Avengers had lived after the New York incident, from time to time that was. Thor had his whole other realm thing going on, and Steve was out doing his captaining all across the country, but somehow the group wound up all together more often than not.

Nowadays, it was just Clint, and occasionally Natasha. Rhodey was currently serving as the Secretary of Defense in Washington, Thor had taken what remained of his people and relocated them to Norway before disappearing back into space, Bruce had stayed in Wakanda for unspecified reasons, and no one had seen Steve in years. There were rumors, but for the most part, the man was a ghost.

The last door on the left, that was where he and Pepper lived. Morgan took the room across from them – it was currently several horrendous shades of pink – though she usually wound up in their room most nights, either because he was out working late or she’d had another bad dream.

Their daughter had a lot of those.

She wasn’t alone, that was for sure.

Sure enough, Pepper was lying on their bed with Morgan tucked under her arm. They were looking at a tablet together, the screen lighting up their faces. She’d probably been working on development plans – Pepper Potts had become the poster girl for rebuilding society – but she had undoubtedly tossed it all aside as soon as Morgan came running in. All of their daughter’s favorite movies were on that thing. He bet they were watching Alice in Wonderland.

For a moment, neither noticed him, so Tony took a second to lean against the doorway and just watch them.

He blamed the Extremis for their daughter turning out to be a redhead just like her mother, making Pepper’s genes utterly unstoppable. Not that he minded, of course. Morgan was better off looking like her. She was better off being like her in every possible way, yet Pepper insisted their daughter was more like him than he could see. Maybe he just didn’t want to see it; maybe it scared the hell out of him. He knew how much of a wreck he was, even before Thanos arrived.

Pepper had to ruin the moment by looking over. Her eyes narrowed and what little courage that had followed him out of the lab fled at the sight.

Still, he took a reluctant step inside.

“May I speak with her?”

Morgan didn’t move, though he knew she heard him. She was choosing to focus on the movie.

“Your father’s come to apologize,” Pepper spoke, gently shaking their daughter’s shoulder. “Should we let him?”

An eternity passed, and then Morgan nodded.

Pepper sighed, wiggling out of her grip, leaving Morgan propped up on the pillows, eyes still glued to the tablet. She walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest before he could step further into the room.

“All she wants to do is be with you, Tony,” Pepper hissed, glancing back at the bed. “And at this point, I don’t know why. You seem to be doing everything in your power to be the worst father.”

Yeah, he would know a thing or two about how to do that.

“I know,” he replied. “I…I know.”

“Do you?”

She was starting to sound like Clint. Those two probably spent more time together than he did with her.

That thought was leading somewhere he didn’t like.

“I always do,” he said, stepping around her. Tony Stark had always been good at knowing things. Acting on them was something entirely different.

Kneeling beside the bed, Tony watched as his daughter continued to ignore him.

“Can we talk?" 

Morgan blinked, but otherwise didn’t move as she stared the screen before her. He watched the colors on her skin rapidly change as the movie went through one of its weirder parts, not that the whole thing wasn’t one big acid trip.

“Do you mind putting that down? Maybe pausing the movie?”

Nothing.

“Fair enough,” Tony said, giving up as he got comfortable on the floor. “You know, I guess I never really told you what I’ve been working on all these years. This, uh, little project of mine predates even you, though not by much.

“See, the world is…a lot different than it used to be, and I know that you know that, but we never told you that we were at the center of it.”

He saw her eyes flick over in his direction. The colors stopped moving; the movie must have been paused.

“The Avengers, we had a chance to stop it, and we screwed up pretty badly. I screwed up pretty badly, and because of that, people died. So, for all these years, I’ve been trying to fix that. All that crazy math stuff I’ve been working on, it’s a way to go back and undo everything. 

Morgan put the tablet down and sat up, never taking her eyes off of him. Tony could see her thinking, piecing together everything he had told her. She was a smart kid, smarter than the others her age; she’d probably end up in advanced classes in no time.

Pepper was right. She was just like him.

“If you go back and fix everything, does that mean I won’t happen?”

Something broke inside of him, and in an instant, Tony had scooped his daughter up in his arms, holding her tightly, as if someone had come to take her from him at that very moment.

“No. No no no no no,” he murmured over and over again, burying his head into her shoulder. He felt her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “That’s not going to happen, Morgan, okay? That’s never going to happen.”

He stood up, groaning as he sat them both down on the bed.

God, when had she gotten so big? She used to barely fit in his arms, and now he was threatening to throw out his back just by lifting her. Had he really missed so much?

“How do you know?”

Tony glanced up over his daughter’s head to see Pepper holding a hand over her mouth. She was barely keeping it together.

“You were always going to happen, kid, alright?” Tony asked, holding Morgan back so she could look at him. She wasn’t crying, and seemed oddly calm for a kid talking about the erasure of her existence. “You existed before all the bad stuff went down, and no matter what I do, you will always exist, I promise.”

“And other people will exist too?”

“A lot of other people,” he replied with a nod. “Like Nathaniel’s brother and sister, and his mom.”

“So Uncle Clint won’t be lonely.”

“Exactly,” Tony said, not sure how much he liked the archer being called ‘uncle.’ “And so many other people. There’s this kid named Peter. You’d, uh…you’d like him. He likes all the same stupid movies that you do.”

Morgan stuck her tongue out at him. “They aren’t stupid.”

“Sure they aren’t.” Tony pulled her back in again, missing holding her. He never held her enough. “Look, kid, I haven’t been the best, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for a lot of things, including everything I forgot, and I know your mother will tell me all about those soon enough.

“There is nothing in this world that I want more than you; there will never be anything in this world that I want more than you, and as long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

* * *

  _The Sanctum Sanctorum  
2018_

She stood at the bottom of the staircase, wringing her hands, watching the gateway that Stephen had conjured in the entryway. She knew who he was talking to on the other side, could hear their voices, but his cloak was blocking the view. Two steps to the side, and she would be able to see them clearly, but her feet were frozen in place, heavy as concrete and just as willing to move.

All this time, and she just wasn’t ready.

Wong placed his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

She giggled. It wasn’t funny at all. In fact, it was solid advice, because she had most certainly forgotten to breathe, but her nerves were so wound up that all of her reactions were not only guaranteed to be wrong, but entirely inappropriate to the situation.

The sorcerer, however, seemed to understand her entirely, and squeezed her shoulder before stepping aside.

Stephen turned around, stepping back into the Sanctum. His eyes found hers immediately, watching her as he walked inside. She felt his arm brush against hers, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“You going to be alright?” she heard him whisper. He was leaning close, back to the portal he’d conjured.

She thought she said ‘no,’ but couldn’t remember moving her mouth.

Bruce had already stepped back through the gateway, but Tony was saying a quick, last goodbye to Pepper. She looked to be arguing, and he was desperately apologizing, kissing her quickly before stepping over the threshold.

The gateway closed before Pepper could get another word in.

Tony looked at the space where it had once been, no longer a park in his view, but double doors instead.

“Well that’s a…thing.”

Then he looked at her.

Time froze.

It was him; it was Tony Stark. He looked so much younger than any of her memories of him; he looked happier, healthier, practically stress-free next to the man she had called her father. She could see him lining up another crack, his classic antagonizing humor that everyone hated, but secretly appreciated, because if he wasn’t doing it, then something was completely wrong.

She missed that; she missed him. 

“So,” he started, “are you supposed to be the Hermione of this get up, or are you more of a Weasley? You know with the…red hair and all.”

_I’m your daughter._

_I’m the greatest thing that happened to you._

_I’m the only one who can stop this._

_I’m-_

She felt Stephen squeeze her hand.

“No sorcery here,” she said, feeling the fake smile stretch across her face.

“I’m just Morgan.”


	2. Morgan

_In the moments following Thanos' victory, half the world's population disappeared, but that was not the end of the chaos he created._

_The immediate aftermath saw tens of thousands of accidents, and victims trapped with no hope of help arriving. Patients died on operating tables when their doctors vanished, planes fell from the sky, and fires burned out of control. Within days, power grids failed and other essential systems reached critical levels. What remained of the United States government managed to gather the engineers needed to continue running the nuclear power plants._

_Other countries were not as fortunate._

_Weeks passed, and only then could the damage even begin to be assessed._

_The Decimation, as it came to be known, did not take its victims strategically. It truly was a random event, leaving some cities intact while others became ghost towns overnight. The top leadership of seventy-eight nations quietly vanished with the chaos, leaving some disjointed and on the brink of civil catastrophe, while others scrambled to find who was left in the line of succession._

_As it was, the Secretary of State, Thaddeus Ross, became the forty-sixth president of the United States. He was sworn in at an underground bunker miles from Washington D.C. by his personal secretary, while he waited for word on his daughter._

_Betty Ross was never found._

_As time passed, the focus of the nation shifted drastically. Technological innovation was set aside for more immediate concerns, such as avoiding starvation. The nation witnessed a mass migration from once populous metropolitan areas to rural communities as numerous people answered the call for help in the agricultural sector. It was an opportunity for stability, and a chance to keep food on the table for a discounted price. Others rushed to the medical field, skipping years of schooling to be rapidly educated by what doctors remained. Teachers eventually found a boom in their population as well._

_The United States withdrew from all foreign soil, activated the draft, and ramped up border security. It would remain that way for another two decades._

_City infrastructure began to crumble. Entire sectors were left uninhabited and allowed to deteriorate. It took thirty years for the government to begin reclaiming them, and by then, most had to be demolished._

_Several animal species were suddenly endangered, as they too were not immune to the Decimation, while others could no longer maintain a viable breeding population._

_Ships washed ashore, their crews lost to the Decimation or the sea._

_Priceless art was left abandoned._

_Languages were lost._

_Entire countries went silent._

_The list of what Thanos truly did to us is endless._

_This is the world I grew up in._

_This is the only life I know._

* * *

**Chapter One  
** Morgan

She had expected pain, excruciating, unbearable pain, but there was nothing in existence that could prepare her for how it would actually feel. Every part of her body was on fire as she was literally torn apart, cell by cell, atom by atom. When she had started, Morgan had uselessly put on a brave face that crumbled into dust as she screamed in agony, until her mouth disappeared and everything fell silent.

Cold. There was only the cold and the darkness and the sensation of floating aimlessly.

And somehow her consciousness existed long enough to wonder if this was eternity.

Sound returned to her first, a droning buzz with no distinction that slowly grew into humming engines, shouts, and car horns. Disjointed conversations floated around her head, their words meaning nothing to her, yet sounding familiar all the same.

Then she gasped.

Morgan coughed and sputtered and rolled around on whatever she had landed on, pain still rippling through her body. She felt herself spasm, shaking without control, and desperately wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to hold her body together lest it collapse into dust again.

' _Morgan.'_  called a voice in her head.

No, her ear.

Something was in her ear.

' _Morgan, get a hold of yourself. Your vitals are out of control. Take deep breaths. Slowly.'_

Breathing? How did she breathe? What did she have to do? How…how…

' _Get it together, kid. You know how this works.'_

She took a breath and another, again and again until her body calmed and her mind fell quiet.

Her eyes opened slowly. The world was bright and shapeless. Then color returned to her vision, forming blurry blobs in the distance until the lines became stark against one another. There was pavement, trash, a wall. It was nothing significant, and a far cry from where she had been. They had all wondered where she might wind up, and with no definitive answer, planned for all scenarios. This seemed like one of the better ones.

Her hand lay on the ground in front of her, motionless and uncovered. Morgan watched as black dots began to crawl across the surface of her skin, forming a protective layer that began to resemble the sleeve of a suit.

Nanotechnology.

Time travel.

She had a purpose here.

Morgan sat up with a groan, her muscles shaky, but slowly remembering their strength. She placed a hand to her forehead, cool against the sweat that had already accumulated, willing away the pain that wracked her skull.

' _There you go.'_

DAVE. The AI her father had gifted to her after he passed. It was housed in small units that sat behind her ears. While the voice was deeper and had less of an edge to it, the mannerisms were clearly modeled after Tony Stark.

He had found a way to come with after all.

"Where am I?" she asked, startled by the sound of her own voice. Had it always sounded like that? Was it deeper now? Did something change?

_Stop overthinking it_ , she told herself.

Her mind continued to overthink just to spite itself.

' _Dingy back alley of a classy establishment. Welcome to the past. Enjoy your stay.'_

Morgan groaned. "DAVE…"

' _Sensor drones indicate Manhattan. Upper East Side. Just off First Avenue.'_

That wasn't far from Stark Tower, from what she recalled. They'd gone over the area extensively before she left, putting various plans into place depending on where she ended up, in a crowd, underground, somewhere within the Hudson or East Rivers. Given how poorly she'd reacted to reentry, Morgan was lucky none of those plans had to be put into play.

Reentry. She'd done it; she was in the past.

And it was  _loud._

Grabbing the dumpster that she had wound up next to, Morgan slowly pulled herself up, sliding her back up the wall behind her, putting as little strain on her legs as possible until the shaking slowed. She took a deep breath when she made it all the way up, bending over and putting her hands on her knees.

Growing up, she had always been active, a ball of energy that no one could keep up with. Uncle Clint had claimed she would be the death of him one day, or at least his back. To feel so weak and unsteady, it was new territory for her. This all was.

"Performance?"

' _Running at around seventy percent efficiency. No bugs from the crossover detected yet, but you might want to get some actual clothes just in case. Birthday suits go down about as well in the past as they do back home.'_

Morgan watched the suit around her shift. Where it was once form fitting, individual pieces began to take shape. Work boots, worn jeans, a green shirt, and gray jacket, her typical, comfortable attire in the field. It was the perfect blending of advanced Stark and Wakandan technology, with a little extra flair courtesy of Shuri. The world had ended for some, but for others, science still prevailed.

"I can't just go around stealing clothes."

' _We went over this. A little nudge here or there isn't going to throw the universe into chaos. Just don't go around murdering anyone.'_

There was a least one being out there she'd like to murder.

Morgan took a step away from the wall, and immediately fell back. She tried again, and stumbled forward awkwardly until her hands caught the wall on the other side of the alley. Taking a deep breath, Morgan steeled herself and stepped away once more, keeping a steady but fast pace forward. Though she swayed with every step, her path far from straight, her legs began to remember themselves, and grew more confident as she gained ground.

Then she turned the corner into the street and nearly fell over again.

People.

There were so many  _people_.

Dozens passed her by in an instant, walking, jogging, some riding on skateboards and casually pushing others out of the way with a shout. They talked and shouted and sang in all sorts of languages, completely oblivious to both her presence and those right beside them.

And in the street, cars ambled along, stopping every now and again, breaks squeaking, music blaring with a beat that shook Morgan to her very core. Bikes swerved in and out between the vehicles, ringing bells and shouting profanity at those who nearly hit them.

A bus drove by.

A plane passed overhead.

Police sirens rang in the distance.

Morgan turned back into the alley, away from it all, and had to take a moment to calm down. She covered her hand with her mouth, to keep herself from saying anything stupid DAVE might overhear, and tried not to cry.

The Manhattan she knew was quieter. Few cars occupied its streets, mostly those of military make. In her youth, gasoline had been in limited supply due to the loss of workers and some oil drills catching fire. What was left went to the military and farmers first, and only those with enough money and influence could drive after that.

Most city blocks were cordoned off, deemed necessary uninhabited areas in order to keep the population safe. Martial law was in place, though there never had been enough personnel to handle everyone. It hadn't mattered though. After the chaos, people had been willing to comply, if only for some semblance of normalcy.

That had never stopped her though. She and Nathaniel would wander for hours amongst the abandoned buildings. They listened to their voices echo off the quiet towers that loomed around them, watched unstable structures as they finally gave in to gravity and plummeted to the earth, and then they would play a game. They would go into homes and guess at the lives the people had led, what they did, who they were, whether they actually loved the person they shared their home with or just pretended. It was wrong, they knew deep down, but it was the life they had been given.

This place though…

This was not her Manhattan.

But it should have been.

' _You okay, Morgan?'_

No. No, she was not.

"I'll be fine," she replied, removing her hand. "It's just…it's…"

' _Something else?'_

"Yeah."

Taking a deep breath, Morgan made the plunge into the street, joining the throng of commuters on the crowded sidewalk. She tried not to gawk at the passersby, but found it increasingly difficult with each new face that she walked by. So many questions ran through her head as she took in each individual.

Did the man in the red shirt survive the Decimation, or would he turn into dust?

The woman in the business suit. Would she be alone when Thanos was done, or would her family survive?

Would the man in the Naval uniform suddenly be in command?

Would the girl still have her parents?

These questions and dozens more like them turned over and over in her mind, an incessant buzz that distracted her from the sounds and sights around her. She nearly walked into traffic twice, and bumped into more than one person, receiving dark looks in reply, and the occasional shouted word. People were angry here, much angrier than she had known them to be growing up, and they hadn't lost nearly as much. It was a strange concept.

She began to wonder if they knew. Locking eyes with a stranger suddenly left her feeling vulnerable, as if they could see all her secrets. They knew her life, her doubts, her struggles, they knew everything and they were judging her.

And it was just so  _loud._

Morgan stumbled to the side at the next alley she saw, breathing deeply until her mind cleared again.

' _Quite the experience, isn't it?'_  DAVE chimed in her ear.

"There's just…so much."

' _And that was just the first twenty blocks.'_

When she was younger, she always tried to imagine what New York used to be like. She'd seen the movies and news clips; she'd seen a lot of things projected onto a screen, but that was nothing like experiencing it. There was no pausing the video, no muting the sound. It was either keep going or risk being swallowed whole by the beast that was the city.

It certainly smelled worse than she'd hoped.

Glancing to the side, Morgan caught a glimpse of a building in the distance, and just like that, all her anxiety disappeared. Without thought, she stepped back into the crowd, allowing herself to be pushed and shoved as she stared up at the one thing that still made sense in this place.

Stark Tower.

Or was it still the Avengers Tower?

She kept staring at the building, waiting, wondering if a certain red and gold suit wouldn't come flying across the sky and land on the large balcony outside. But Morgan knew she would be better off without. If she saw her father now, nothing could stop her from trying to speak with him, and that was the last thing she could do. It could destroy everything, and she had only just arrived.

Someone chuckled beside her.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Iron Man doesn't hang around there anymore."

Morgan turned to the newsstand beside her. An older gentleman sat on a stool, his kind face covered by large sunglasses.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"He sold it a few months back. Doesn't stop the tourists from looking though. Think that's why the new owner keeps the flashy 'A' up there."

"Sold it…" Morgan whispered, turning back to the tower. She had grown up in that building, knew the layout by heart. Every turn, every drop, every scratch and dent that Stark Tower received, she knew the story. Her father had spoken about the place like it was something sacred.

And he'd sold it?

"They got some flashy place upstate. Fenced off, fancy military complex. Keeps the paparazzi to a minimum. And boy, do they need it these days."

"Why do they-"

Morgan's question cut off as she skimmed the titles on the various newspapers and magazines the vendor sold. Large, bold print detailed something that she had not planned on, that no one in all their wisdom had decided to tell her.

'CAPTAIN AMERICA STILL AT LARGE'

'AVENGERS NO MORE'

'TONY STARK: GOVERNMENT PAWN?'

'ARE HEROES ILLEGAL? – EVERYTHING YOU NEED ABOUT THE SOKOVIA ACCORDS'

The vendor was still looking at her. "Kid, you need to get out more often."

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied sternly, turning away from him one final time as she strode away from the tower. Her hand curled into her sleeve, feeling the nanites form sunglasses in her palm. "DAVE, tell me what the hell is going on."

* * *

She'd wandered to a park, her frustration at the new situation drowning all sense of curiosity that she had felt upon first exploring the city. Through her sunglasses, Morgan watched DAVE display various articles and videos in the open space before her, filling her in on the events that had happened some months prior to her arrival.

The Sokovia Accords had caused a rift between the Avengers, culminating in a showdown at an airport in Germany. Several members had been arrested – and subsequently escaped from what she could tell – and the rest quietly worked for a subcommittee from the United Nations.

DAVE also uploaded information that was not for public record, things from her father's personal files that had been kept restricted until deemed necessary. She watched him fight Steve Rogers, a man that he had spoken so highly of to her; she watched him fight Clint Barton, the man who shared their home. None of them had brought it up; none of them had ever mentioned anything wrong at any point in her life.

When the world ends, so do the sins of the past.

Except now that she was in that past, it was starting to haunt her.

' _It would have been easy to cover up,'_ DAVE described to her, shutting down all projections, leaving her to look at New York once again.  _'We're talking data loss on an incomprehensible scale after the Decimation. No one was interested in old stories. They needed medical files and launch codes.'_

"They should have told me," she mumbled, resting her head on her hand. She sat on one of the park benches, watching people walk casually by, completely unaware of what their future had in store for them. A couple walked by with their daughter. She smiled at Morgan.

' _Your mission isn't impacted by the Sokovia Accords. It would have only served as a distraction.'_

"You're right, it does," Morgan replied, removing her sunglasses. She felt them disappear in her hands, crawling back into the hub located on her wrist; she had one on both of them, as well as her ankles, like bracelets, placed in strategic areas for immediate action if necessary. "We've got bigger problems anyway. The timeframe puts us a year out from the battle in New York. We have to wait, and find something to do in the meantime."

This was something else they had suspected might happen. It was never going to be a simple journey from point A to point B. Time was fluid, and while the past was technically a fixed point, the present steadily moved forward, making the distance back longer and longer. How fast did time travel? That was a question no one was completely certain of. It was all a matter of luck, no matter how many calculations they plugged into the machine.

Winding up some time before Thanos arrived was fortunate, because she could have very well found herself arriving right as everything fell apart.

Still, that left her stranded with knowledge and little else in a time she wasn't entirely certain how to function in.

' _Looks like Starbucks is hiring.'_

"What's Starbucks?"

Just as her AI sounded like it was about to go on a long-winded rant about businesses that existed before she was born, something began to crackle, and she felt a breeze around her ankles.

Morgan looked down to find an orange circle forming around the ground beneath her, sparking like a hoop of fire. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw the interior of a building.

And then she fell.

Not much surprised Morgan anymore. Her life had been a series of bounding into the unknown, paving a way for future generations to have a chance at a more stable existence. She had seen the country go to war with itself, years where food was overflowing followed by food shelf lines that filled city blocks. Something as unpredictable as the world she grew up in meant recovering fast and not letting the strange and sudden changes get to you.

Also, with Tony Stark as a parent, everything was bound to be unusual anyway.

Still, she shrieked in a way that she hadn't since she was a little girl as her body freefell through the ground and onto a couch. She bounced awkwardly off the surface, hearing the wood of the frame crack under the pressure. Morgan grabbed the cushions with both hands to stabilize herself, seconds away from using the nanotech at her disposal, but she reined in the sensation. She had to keep its use to a minimum.

Two men were looking at her. One was dressed simply, like a monk, and was staring her down with a hard gaze, his arms crossed. He looked like a stern parent, and she the kid with her hand in the cookie jar.

And the other man…

She knew him.

Dressed in blue robes adorned by a bright, red cape, Morgan had seen the man before her in her father's files. He'd always labeled the man as 'the uptight wizard,' but there had been a name to go along with it too.

Doctor Stephen Strange.

He took a step forward, cloak billowing around him, and she had to wonder if he always seemed this intimidating or if had the ability to conjure that.

"I'm going to ask you this one time," he started, looking down at her, judgment threatening to smother her. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, she found her eyes focusing on his chest, where an amulet hung, glowing green.

The Time Stone.

That was it. The key to everything, and it was staring her in the face.


	3. Strange

_Avengers Tower  
_ _Post-Decimation_

" _Kid, I never meant to put any of this on you."_

Morgan hadn't been in his lab for years – hell, it had taken her this long to come here after he passed – and she had once thought the same for her father, but clearly that wasn't true. Some of the older equipment was covered in tarps, but his workstation wasn't. Really, she should have known better. Tony Stark was a tinkerer with a stubborn streak, and she'd inherited the trait.

Still, it had been a long time since anyone had used the machine. Morgan wiped thick layers of dust from the surface, and that was how the hologram activated.

The image of her father sighed. Morgan half thought he would have manipulated the imaging to make himself appear younger, but the projection looked much like he had before the end: gray hair that was mostly white – but never say that to his face – deep worry lines, and a heavy reliance on a cane. All his life, he'd used technology to improve his quality of living, but her father  _really_ liked that cane. He used to smack people with it, mainly Clint.

" _I wanted to do the impossible, to change history. No one should want to do this, the potential for abuse alone should scrap any idea immediately, but this…this place, this future. Kid, it could be so much better."_

She'd heard that before. It was like a mantra her father spoke every day. He always told her he was making a better future for her, but his mind had been so consumed by the idea that her present was the wrong place that he forgot to help her actual future. Her mother had been the one to change the world, to lead the charge in the effort to restore it to some semblance of civilization. Morgan once thought her mother resented her father for that, but she only seemed to encourage the work.

As pragmatic as Pepper Potts was, she, too, had a side that hoped beyond measure that everything was just a bad dream.

Growing up thinking your life wasn't supposed to be took a toll on a kid. Though her parents tried their best, it wasn't exactly something they could sweep under the carpet. After all, all she had to do was look out the window.

" _Years ago, I gave up. You know that. I said it couldn't be done. You were…God, you were seventeen then. I remember so clearly, you gave me this look, like who is this asshole giving up on his work? That's not my dad._

" _Well, partially. I've always been an asshole, just usually a stubborn one instead."_

Morgan laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. He must have recorded the message months before his death, because he hardly sounded this way before the end. The cancer had taken a toll on him. Of course, it had been cancer. All the crazy shit he had been through in his life, and that disease had the audacity to take him from her.

His image smiled as if he knew exactly how she'd react, but faded quickly.

" _The truth is, it_ can  _be done…because I did it."_

Morgan blinked.

What?

" _When you were about ten, I had a breakthrough of sorts,"_ he continued, picking at the material on his cane handle.  _"I found the equation we needed, but after years of testing, it became abundantly clear that no one would be able to do this._

" _Except you, kid."_

Morgan grabbed the nearest stool, dragging it over so she could sit. She remembered the day he stopped vividly; she had actually argued with him about it. There she was, Morgan Stark, the only kid in history who was upset that her father was about to be doing less work and spending more time with her. But she hadn't been an idiot. There were days that she knew his work was the only thing keeping him going. He had slumps, just like everyone else, and she was afraid that if he stopped, she would actually lose him.

But she hadn't. He dedicated himself to other work. Improved power grids, self-reliant structures, auto-piloted farm vehicles, anything to ease the burden that had been put on the people left in the world.

Anything that had nothing to do with the military.

He and her mother had been vocal critics of the continued military state their country was in, despite the years that had passed and the stabilization of the economy. It had put him at odds with Rhodey on multiple occasions, though they both had points and only wanted the best for everyone. It seemed the world had become far less likely to compromise in the wake of everything.

" _And that's the real reason I stopped. This was supposed to be my mission, my burden, no one else's, especially not you."_

The image of her father paused as he wiped his face. He was beginning to cry.

" _I am your father and I am supposed to protect you, not ask you to leave everything you know because I screwed up! But that's how it works, isn't it, kid? Your dad makes a mess, and everyone else has to clean up after him."_

Her father took a seat on the very stool she was using now. Somehow it made her feel lonelier.

" _So, I shelved it, tried to forget about it and make do with what we have. It's not a perfect world, but it has you, so clearly something has gone right in this mess._

" _But you know me, kid, I can't ever let anything go completely. Seriously, you better tell everyone at my funeral that I beat Clint fair and square in that Monopoly match. It's not my fault his addition skills rival that of a five-year-old."_

He had known he was going to die. Maybe it was just after he found out; maybe it was before he even told them.

" _You're an adult now, after all, and far more capable of making good decisions than I ever was at your age, or even at my age._

" _So, I am leaving you everything, all the information you need, the equations, lists of materials you require, and most importantly, a detailed description of the events leading up to the Decimation. Maybe I'm a coward for not wanting to tell you this in person, but what father wants to tell their daughter that to save the world, they might have to die?"_

Tony paused, taking long, deep breaths. Then he looked up, and Morgan could have sworn he was actually staring at her, his eyes pleading.

" _Morgan, do not do this because you feel an obligation to me or your mother. Don't do this for Clint or Rhodey or Natasha. Don't do this for Nathaniel. Forget about us. We don't matter._

" _Only go through with this if you think the world has no other choice."_

* * *

_The Sanctum Sanctorum  
_ _2017_

Unusual wasn't a word he took lightly anymore.

After his training at Kamar-Taj, and the subsequent events involving a crazy, homicidal sorcerer and an inter-dimensional, world-consuming being, Stephen Strange was almost positive that he could never use that word properly again. The same went for weird, outlandish, peculiar, and strange – not that he used that one often. His normal was something that most people would never have the capacity to comprehend, so it almost felt wrong to dare to say that there was something he would actually qualify as abnormal.

Yet when he saw Wong running into the sanctum, face etched with worry, that was the only word he could think of.

Unusual.

"Stephen," the monk huffed when he stopped in front of him. "You need to return to Kamar-Taj."

"Has something happened? Was there an attack?"

They'd lost track of Mordo months ago, and after getting wind of what had happened to Jonathan Pangborn, the order had been on high alert. But aside from the occasional missing sorcerer, there hadn't been a sign of their former friend. Stephen didn't think he'd ever attack the monastery directly, but he hadn't thought the man would abandon them either, so it really showed what he knew about people.

"No. The Eye of Agamotto, it's…doing something."

By doing something, Wong meant that the eye itself had opened and the stone within had begun to emit a high-pitched sound, like something was causing it physical harm.

"You should really get a phone," Stephen said as he gently placed his hands near the eye, avoiding touching it for the time being. Magic rolled off the amulet in waves, powerful, actually physically pushing his hands back with every pulse. There was something wrong about the sensation. It felt almost…corrupted.

"We are literally standing in front of an ancient portal that leads directly to the sanctum."

"And yet, a phone call would have been faster."

"Have you tried the service up here? Magic can only go so far, my friend."

Stephen eyed the monk before returning his focus to the Eye. "It must be reacting to some kind of external interference. Has anyone been in here recently?"

"Only me. Everything was quiet up until the Eye opened."

He sighed. "I'm going to try something."

Concentrating, Stephen began to focus on the world around him, and then beyond, conjuring the energy needed to create the spell. His shaking hands felt the power grow around them, steadying them only briefly as orange glyphs burst around his fingertips. He drew a circle around the eye, watching as the spell appeared around it, the language of magic.

Wong looked over his work. "A tracking spell?"

"It's the best I could think of on short notice."

There was a spark, then a burst of light shot up toward the globe overhead, landing squarely on a familiar patch of land.

Stephen sighed. "Of course it's in New York. Where else would it be?"

Gingerly, he grabbed the Eye, half believing it would burn him in some way, but despite the ever-present sounds emanating from it, the amulet was cool to the touch and utterly motionless.

Wong regarded him carefully. Not that long ago, Stephen had admitted he wasn't ready to be the guardian of the Time Stone. Deciding to wear it again when it might actually be dangerous to was certainly not one of his more intelligent plans, but he had always been a fan of improvising.

They returned to the Sanctum, listening as the shrill increased as it moved closer to whatever was causing the disturbance. Stephen winced slightly as Wong performed a small spell of his own. Suddenly, the world was quieter, as if they had fallen underwater.

He nodded in thanks.

Using the tracking spell already in place, Stephen brought out his sling ring. If he could get a lock on the disturbance, he could bring it here, and hopefully put a stop to whatever it was they were doing. If it was enough to affect an Infinity Stone, clearly it had no place in their reality.

This was what the Ancient One had chosen him for, after all.

It took a while for Stephen to catch up to the entity. Their presence was scattered, the spell losing and finding them over and over again. An aftereffect perhaps, or a spell of their own making. It could have been anyone or anything out there, and they had to be prepared.

Despite this, when a redheaded woman dropped from the gateway onto their couch, Stephen found himself surprised. He hadn't really expected anything terribly outlandish, but he also didn't think that the cause of all this trouble was going to look like a random civilian plucked from the street.

But when she looked at them, angry instead of confused, her body briefly poised for a fight, Stephen knew. This was who they wanted.

Also the fact that the Time Stone fell silent as soon as she entered the room was a dead giveaway.

Wong released his spell, and the sounds of the world returned.

"I'm going to ask you this one time," Stephen said, walking toward the woman. "What are you doing here?"

The woman did not reply. Her gaze was fixed on the Time Stone, its glow casting a green light on her face.

With a wave of his hands, the Eye of Agamotto shut once again, and the woman was forced to concentrate on him once more.

"Let me be more specific," he continued. "What are you doing in this time?"

Again, he had no right to call anything unusual, including the fact that this did not seem to faze him.

Her blue eyes widened slightly, briefly, before a mask of calm fell over her face again. She stood slowly, dusting off her jacket. The couch she had landed on groaned. Wong would be giving him crap for that later.

"You figured that out quickly," the woman replied, tone even, unsurprised. How pragmatic of her.

"Well, the Time Stone doesn't tend to lie." Stephen ignored the terrified expression on Wong's face. He had a gut feeling, and that was rarely wrong. "You know about it, don't you?"

Her blue eyes regarded him briefly before looking to the floor. "I do."

"How?"

"You know I can't tell you that, Doctor Strange."

Dealing with the fantastical was something he did on a daily basis, and yet people knowing his name when they shouldn't have still managed to send a small chill up his spine.

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage, Miss…"

"Park. Morgan Park."

He doubted that.

"Well, Miss Park, if you're trying to be so secretive about this whole thing, then why divulge that you know who I am?"

The woman, Morgan, looked between him and Wong, debating.

"Because I want to be frank with you. I'm on your side."

Stephen couldn't help himself. He chuckled at the idea.

"My side is keeping the fabric of this reality intact, which I can guarantee isn't the one you are on, elsewise you wouldn't be here," he turned away from her, striding around the entryway. "You're from the future, correct? Of course you are, because where else would you come from? No one else has the capability of traveling without the stone, and anyone who has the stone knows the dangers of tampering with the delicate balance of time."

Morgan crossed her arms. "You didn't seem to share that sentiment in Hong Kong."

Stephen froze in place, looking back to Morgan. She was staring at him, head on, challenging. No one from the Hong Kong civilian population remembered that fight; no one could have. It both did and did not happen with the actions of the Time Stone. They would have seen strangely dressed people, but it was Hong Kong. Just like New York, that was hardly out of the ordinary.

She could not have been there; she could not have known.

Unless…

"How do you know that?" Wong asked, finding his voice again.

Morgan looked to him, and paused longer than he was comfortable with.

"A friend told me," she said quietly.

"Who?"

She gave him a sympathetic smile. They both knew she couldn't tell him that either.

Her eyes met his again. "Our reality shouldn't be here right now. I know that, and you know that. You used the Time Stone to stop the destruction in Hong Kong, to reverse what had been done and give our world a second chance.

"You broke the rules that you regard as sacred, because those rules would have allowed everyone here to die. And I am here to tell you that this situation is no different."

"And what is this situation?" he asked.

This was the test, the one that she needed to pass. They were fortunate to have found her. Knowledge of the future was a powerful thing. The Ancient One had possessed that, but kept her stories vague, unable to change anything before they occurred. No dates, no specifics, just ideas that could hardly affect anything.

He and Wong, and the others from Kamar-Taj, were bound to follow these rules. Knowledge could not always be acted upon. Were she to divulge anything that may present a change, something that would effect the outcome of said event, they could prevent that from happening, could prevent others from knowing, and most importantly, they could go about their lives as if it were not about to happen.

They had to.

For the first time since she landed in the sanctum, Morgan looked unsure of herself. Her shoulders slumped and her face fell. Quietly, she walked over to the staircase, and sat on the lower steps. She ran her face through her hands and sighed.

"The death of trillions, maybe more."

Stephen was distinctly aware of his hands shaking at that moment.

She hadn't said when. It could have been tomorrow or one hundred years from then. She hadn't said how or why or what did it, which meant she was aware of the consequences of specifics as well. He could at least give her that much credit.

"I'm sorry," he said after a while, thoughts drifting to Metro-General. "But there is nothing you can do about it."

Morgan shot up. "What?"

"We are the guardians of this reality, and what has happened is not something we are here to fix."

"But Hong Kong-"

"Was already doomed," Stephen countered before she got the chance. "Dormammu had won and every single life form was facing an eternity of a fate worse than death. But you are here, and, I presume, others survive as well. There is something beyond whatever is going to happen, and while you may not like it, it exists, and it has to stay."

Morgan shook her head. He could have sworn she was on the verge of tears.

So much for pragmatic.

"It can't stay."

"It has to."

"I won't let that happen."

Stephen sighed. He knew it would come to this.

"Alright then."

With a wave of his hand, another gateway opened behind Morgan.

The anger he saw in her eyes then was something he'd never seen before.

"Don't you dare!"

When she tried to lunge at him, the gateway sprang forward, swallowing her up and closing before she could touch him, leaving them alone.

Wong stepped beside him. "You certainly have a way with women."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Says the celibate monk."

* * *

Morgan slammed into a wall, picturing her fists wiping that smug look off Stephen Strange's face.

In one of her many briefings she had been given about the past, the interference of Doctor Strange, or any one of the numerous sorcerers that the world apparently had, was pressed upon her as one of her more important and likely outcomes. The very act of traveling back in time to change the past was what he was supposed to stop people from doing. Her presence would neither be welcome nor tolerated, and he had shown her just as much.

Her father, in all his reluctance, had admitted in his notes that the reason he did not get along with Strange was because he was too much like him: brilliant, arrogant, rarely believing himself to be in the wrong, along with having a terrible sense of humor. Morgan knew from the get go that she could not lie to the man, and would have to tell him as much as she could without compromising the future. He was sensible – to an extent – and would listen to her, especially with the backing of her knowledge on him, or so she had been told. To be honest, she had not expected the man to find her so quickly.

But clearly nothing was going to go the way she wanted.

Morgan shouted, kicking the wall.

She'd been transported to a simple room with a neatly made bed and dresser. There was a closet in the far wall, and an adjacent bathroom. One small window gave way to a view of the city street below, though no noise made its way through the glass. More magic, she guessed.

' _I don't suppose we had a plan b for any of this,'_  DAVE chimed in uselessly.

"For magic? No," Morgan admitted, making her way to the door. She half expected the room to be locked, but when she tugged on the handle, she found herself staring into a hallway.

It was not going to be that easy – she knew it – but she had to try. She had not come this far to be stopped by some man in a cape.

Single windows sat on each end of the hallway, the walls lined with multiple, similar doors. Nothing distinguished them from the other. There were no sounds to indicate what may have been on the other side of them. She could not even make out a possible staircase nearby.

So, Morgan tried the first door across from her. It opened to a room very similar to her own. She tried the next door, and the next, and found the outcome to be the same. It was only when she took a closer look at the windows that she realized the view had never changed.

Somehow, each room she was entering was the same one.

_Freaking. Magic._

"DAVE, I don't suppose you can get a reading on any of this?"

' _Sorry, kid, I wasn't programed with magical algorithms. Try yelling bippity boppity boo once.'_

Morgan rolled her eyes. It really was like her dad was in the room, unnecessary humor and all.

She kept opening door after door, clinging to the hope that one of the rooms might actually change. But nothing did.

When she stepped inside the last room, she barely suppressed a scream. Once Morgan composed herself, she opened the door again, only to find herself staring into the same room. The hallway had completely disappeared.

Her tiny world had just shrunk even more.

' _That's unfortunate.'_

"Shut up, DAVE."

Morgan made her way to the window, unlocking the frame and lifting. Dust blew into her face as air swarmed inside from the city. Suddenly, the noises of the outside world had returned. Cars, birds, people. It all seemed so easy.

Unwilling to give away everything about herself just yet, Morgan opted to just climb through and jump to the ground. She and Nate had done worse in their youth. A second story window was nothing to her. But when her right leg swung outside, she found her shoe coming into contact with the ground far sooner than she thought.

Suddenly, Morgan was staring at the room again, while the outside world had suddenly opened up to her left leg. When her head tried to move through to that side, her right leg was once again outside. No matter how hard she tried or how fast she moved, Morgan found herself right back in that room.

"Son of a bitch!" Morgan shouted, giving up and climbing back inside entirely.

Time travel. Aliens. People disappearing because of some colorful stones. All those things in her life she had come to accept and figure out, but now she was about to lose her mind because an overpowered magician was playing games with her.

' _What now, kid?'_

That was the question, wasn't it?

Morgan sat on the bed, resting her head on her hands and thinking.

Certainly, she could wait and see if Doctor Strange would return and ask her any questions. She could wait and see if he was willing to give her a second chance to explain herself, but some not so small part of her doubted he was willing to do such a thing. From his perspective, it would be too big of a risk, too much.

But if she escaped, what then? He had found her before; he certainly would have no trouble doing so again.

But maybe that was the point. It wasn't about escaping; it was about showing him that she was not willing to stop.

Violent protestation. She had grown familiar with it in her youth. When the government cracked down hard on the people, the people had fought back. She had been at one of those protests once, and just barely escaped being arrested. In her mind, Morgan could still clearly picture the looks on her parents' faces. Nate's too. He had been there that day as well, only on the wrong side.

Morgan took a deep breath, clearing her mind.

"We'll just have to take a page out of Uncle Clint's book."

' _Which is what, again?'_

"When you're losing at someone else's game, don't be afraid to flip the board."

'… _is that a reference to the Monopoly match?'_

Morgan said nothing as she stood again, looking at the wall instead of the window as her new target. She brought her right hand up, watching as the nanites formed a metallic glove across her skin. Green and silver armor ran its way up to her elbow, not form fitting, but thick, military grade. Her father's old armor housed only a fraction of the nanites hers did.

She heard the familiar whine of the Mark series' repulsors warming up.

"Out-magic this, douchebag."

With one shot, half the wall blew away, sending bits of brick and wood into the street below.

Morgan didn't hesitate, running into the open air as the suit formed around the rest of her body, allowing her to fly into the open sky and far away from the sanctum.

* * *

The population of New York City was used to seeing many things. Admittedly, when aliens started pouring from the sky a few years ago, that certainly topped the list. However, afterward, that just meant that everything they had previously considered strange was run of the mill. They ignored things that would make most people stop and stare. Too much happened in the city for them to get hung up on. You'd never make it more than a few blocks a day otherwise.

So, when some man came stumbling out of an alleyway, most paid him no mind. People were drunk and ambling around any day of the week and any time of the day. It was better to ignore them. You make eye contact, they're bound to follow you.

When he stumbled through the crowd, most swerved away from him. So, he was really drunk, and would be picked up by the cops in no time.

When he grabbed a woman, she screamed, and the man next to her shoved him away.

The man fell into the wall, and some eyes turned his way.

He coughed and blood began to pour from his mouth. More eyes turned.

His hand grasped at his throat and chest, as he made choking noises. He fell to the ground and began to convulse, the blood from his mouth bubbling. Suddenly, an effort was made to care as people surrounded him. Shouts were made to call 911. Some attempted to turn the man over. Others simply watched, stunned. Meanwhile, most continued to walk on their way.

What were they supposed to do anyway?

How could they have known the danger that this dying man represented?


End file.
